For You Are Abstract, Making No Mistake,

In My Garden The Winds Have Beaten The Ripe Lilies; In My Garden, The Salt Has Wilted The First Flakes Of Young Narcissus.

Dead Men Would Start And Move Toward Me To Learn Of Love.

I Could Not Accept From Wisdom What Love Taught, Woman Is Perfect.

The Elixir Of Life, The Philosopher's Stone Is Yours If You Surrender Sterile Logic, Trivial Reason.

Writing. Love Is Writing.